


look at the state of it all

by francesforever



Series: the dream smp gives me a headache (character study's) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author Projecting onto TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt No Comfort, Mentions of the Explosion, everyone but tommy is just mentioned, give smp!tommy a break, i am smp!tommy apologist until the day i die, im sorry i got really sad and wrote this, just sad thoughts, manipulation ? kinda ? it's briefly hinted at, this is Just a tommy character study btw, tommy in exile, tommy is desperate, tommy reminisces on his life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/francesforever/pseuds/francesforever
Summary: "It doesn't work, so plain and simple; it doesn't work, none of it ever works. He feels so drained of anything but his sadness, he feels like he's thrown out all other parts of himself apart from this deep wrenching ache ( the same one he gets in his chest at sunrises sometimes.) And he realizes, after an age of pitching more and more blue, an age of fights and wars and effort that it was for nothing. All of it, for nothing at all. Just look at the state of it all. "OR: tommy is desperate in exile, tries to believe in Ghostbur's blue, and (with lost of ansgt) reminces on things.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: the dream smp gives me a headache (character study's) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087112
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	look at the state of it all

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this probably isnt the best thing i could've done but I was kinda just itching to finally get this out!  
> hope you enjoy :)

He knows the blue won’t work, of course, he knows the blue won’t work. He knows everyone just takes it to see Ghostbur smile. But somewhere between his older brother going insane and blowing up their entire country and ~~his best friend~~ Tubbo exiling him, he's started grasping at straws to make some sense of it all. He knows he’s desperate and he feels silly and childish when he throws the blue out. But still, he pushes down the shame and he follows Ghostbur's instructions: he takes a deep breath, thinks all his 'sad thoughts', watches as it turns blue _("but- it's already blue Wilbur. Why is it already blue?")_ , and he throws it. He throws it into the ocean, in the lava, God, he even makes Dream blow it up with his stuff a couple of times _(he makes a point of ignoring the look Dream gives him at that; halfway between pity and joy. He makes a point not to say a word as he watches his belongings burn, he makes sure not to flinch when the bang of the TNT reminds him of Wilbur.)_ He feels especially desperate, especially silly and childish one night in the Nether when he goes as close to the L'manberg portal as his banishment will allow, and he hurls blue into the inviting, bottomless lava, and he hurls more blue, more and more blue, all of it that ghostbur has given him the past week. He throws his blue in the lava for so long his muscles start to tire and he watches it burn and bubble and fade to ash for long that he starts to smile, watches the bright lava for so long he develops a headache, so long that he's certain the red and orange river will be all he can see for years to come.

And it doesn't fucking work.

It doesn't work, so plain and simple; it doesn't work, none of it ever works. He feels so drained of anything but his sadness, he feels like he's thrown out all other parts of himself apart from this deep wrenching ache _( the same one he gets in his chest at sunrises sometimes.)_ And he realizes, after an age of pitching more and more blue, an age of fights and wars and effort that it was for nothing. All of it, for nothing at all. Just look at the state of it all. He fought so hard for L'manberg, for its independence, for him and his friends to have somewhere calm and free to live. Only for Wilbur to blow it all up anyways - he thinks a lot about that day, thinks a lot about how Wilbur has agreed to explode it all, all their hard work, before anything even happened. He thinks a lot about how that no matter what they did it would always end in war, he thinks a lot about how Wilbur never even really gave peace a chance, never really gave any of them a chance. He needed Schlatt, needed him to be a good leader for **his** country. He admired Technoblade, wanted to be like him, he grew up watching him be fearless and strong _(he thinks this is now stupid)._ He loved Tubbo, he fought and killed for Tubbo, he would've done anything for him, he used to really believe that was mutual. And look at where all that got him, Schlatt was the worst leader they had, Techno killed his best friend, tried to kill Tommy with Withers, only has time for Anarchy nowadays. and Tubbo; Tubbo exiled him without a second thought, told him the discs don't matter, that he doesn't matter, that they didn't matter. Tubbo doesn't come to visit him. Tubbo doesn't try.  
So what was the point? in fighting so hard, for his people, his country. just, look at the state of it all.

He screams. He screams into the warm, familiar emptiness of the Nether. He screams at Tubbo, for exiling him, for being his best friend, for cursing them both to be alone and scared and confused without each other, who he misses like a rib out of place, who's hand he still feels in his like a permanent bruise, who's arms he still feels wrapped around him on particularly bad nights, a safety unmatched by any weapons or armor.  
He screams at Wilbur, the Wilbur he used to know, the Wilbur who was sworn by blood to protect him, the Wilbur who was driven mad by power and love and family, the Wilbur who put him in danger constantly, The Wilbur who made his best friend president, The Wilbur who would tuck him in at night, sit outside his door so no one could come close, who would shower him with praise and assert him with his pride, he screams to the shell of his big brother that haunts him now.

He screams at Dream, the too-powerful man who taunts him - or comforts him - he can't really tell anymore. The man who he's always hated **_(he thinks?)_** , the man who got him exiled ( ** _but really, it was Tubbo who did that, wasn't it?)_** , who drove the wedge between him and his best friend **_( or maybe that was Tommy, all those nights too caught up in himself to catch the signs)_** , who is at the center of all their conflict **_( just because he's trying to stop them!),_** who took his discs, who mercilessly burns his hard-earned things **_(it's for Tommy’s own safety!)_** , who belittles him, who degrades him, who has become his one comfort, his one friend.

He screams and he screams and he screams until his throat is bloody and raw, until his screams echo and bounce off the walls of hell, until they ring through the portal and seep into the dreams of all in L'manberg. Hot tears burn his face and he feels desperate and silly, and childish, and he feels sick; sick of exile and sick of being alone **_(but he has Dream!)_** , and sick to death of the fucking state of it all.  
he passes out there, after some time, next to the portal to home _( so close, so close, he can almost hear the soundtrack of home, can almost smell Niki's fresh bakes, can almost see Tubbo on their bench watching the sunrise, waiting)_ , on the blistering rocks of the Nether, the heat wrapping blankets around him, the delusion of his mind wrapping safe and familiar arms around him.  
He dreams of fields, he dreams of buzzings in his ear, he dreams of soft laughter in the wind and a hand in his as they run side by side, he dreams of building that house, of the idea of running away from it all. He dreams of coming home at the end of the day to warmth, to his family, he dreams of the hearty dinners around a loud, of fighting with a brother in the garden, of benches and music discs and family and sunrises and the all-consuming knowledge that life is so irrefutably different, that no matter what they will never get that back. He dreams of smoke and TNT and explosions, he dreams of the ringing in his ears and dirt in his lungs, he dreams of rubble and craters, he dreams of the scars on his neck, stomach, chest. He dreams of a better life, a happier life, and he dreams of fucking blowing it all up.  
And for once, for once in his life, he understands.  
He dreams of running, chasing, being chased, of the fire in him to fight. He dreams of blood, and death, and wars. He dreams of before, and after. He dreams of the state of it all.  
And he dreams, for one moment, of nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> the original ending to this was "And, well, if he falls asleep on those rocks in the Nether, and if he wakes on his bed in Logsteadshire with a chest stocked with blue, then that's between a fading man and his thoughts." but that was too nice so I changed it haha.  
> Hope you enjoyed it! sorry for the pain, thank you for reading :) comments and kudos mean a lot.  
> expect some more dreams content from me, I've already got Tubbo angst ready.  
> \- Frances


End file.
